


Piercing the Veil

by purewanderlust



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Post-Here Lies the Abyss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He imagined they must make quite a sight: The Hero of Ferelden and a witch of the Wilds dragging a seasoned Grey Warden out from the Fade like a mother drags a disobedient child by the ear. It was ridiculous.</p><p>He should have expected it. No one was more stubborn than his Warden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piercing the Veil

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, this is incredibly self-indulgent. I could not function after completing Here Lies the Abyss for the first time yesterday, and I didn't think I would ever want to finish the game unless I wrote something to get past it. (I'm a huge dork, I know.) So here we are. Enjoy! Notes regarding translation of the elvish used are at the end.

The hardest part was remembering.

Alistair knew who he was, the history, feelings, and relationships that made him up. He just couldn't always recall where he was or how he'd gotten there.

The Fade was funny that way.

He suspected part of the problem was the passage of time. Or rather, the lack of anything remotely resembling the passage of time. It made it difficult to keep track of simple things like how long he been here. He didn't even have hunger or sleep to help him gauge it; they didn't appear to be necessary in this place.

Or maybe he was asleep and this was all just a very vivid dream.

There were a lot of questions without answers, really.

Sometimes, in his more lucid moments, Alistair would remember things. Tiny details that he wrote down in a water-damaged journal he'd found. Reading the scattered notes often left him frustrated, unable to piece together their meaning.

Corypheus. The Calling.

Hawke and the Inquisitor. The Nightmare. Wardens betrayed the Divine.

And over and over: Mahariel.

That last one didn't take any deductive skills to understand. He remembered her, could never forget her. And she hadn't been to this place, he was sure of that much.

Being trapped in the Fade was not exactly what Alistair had expected. Which isn't to say he had expected it--he hadn't, really--who expected to find themselves physically trapped in the Fade, with little to no memory of how they got there?

Not Alistair, that was for certain.

And yet, here he was. If this was someone's idea of a joke, it wasn't a very good one.

But still. It wasn't what he would've imagined, should the thought of imagining it ever have crossed his mind. For one thing, it was more peaceful than he might've guessed. His time training to be a Templar had taught him that the Fade was a dangerous place where you couldn't rely on your senses, where you would constantly be beset by demons, bound and determined to possess you. While the first part was certainly true--Alistair wouldn't soon forget the time he tried to sit on a boulder that floated away into the sky as soon as he touched it--the second part was decidedly...not.

Of course, he had encountered some demons and thankfully his memory lapses didn't extend to his abilities to wield a sword. He'd even met some good spirits, if there were such a thing. For the most part, however, the spirits left him alone. He supposed he simply wasn't that interesting, being just as stuck in the place as they were.

Being trapped in the Fade...Maker's breath, it was dull. He had a vague impression that when he'd been stranded here, he'd expected to die.

On his worse days, he wondered if that might've been preferable. It was ironic; he'd been so lucky over the last decade: one of only two surviving Fereldan Grey Wardens, successfully helping to end the Blight, going on countless other Warden missions thereafter and living to tell the tale. Duncan was just the first of many good men Alistair had seen die while he, so much less deserving, inexplicably survived.

Never before had that luck seemed as much of a curse as it did now. He'd crossed whatever portion of the Fade he was in hundreds of times, looking for an exit in the ever-changing landscape. He had spoken to spirits and narrowly evaded temptation, but had yet to discover a way out. What was the point of surviving if there was nothing to live for? No wonder the spirits wanted out so badly--it was worse than the Deep Roads.

Alistair was beginning to give up hope that he would ever get out of this place, that he would ever recall the exact details that brought him here, that he would ever see Mahariel again.

"Alistair?" As if reading his thoughts, her voice suddenly broke through his thoughts. She was standing in front of him, beautiful and irrevocable, as if she'd always been there.

"Not possible," he whispered.

She frowned and her forehead creased like he remembered. He used to press his thumb into those worry lines, trying to smooth them out, and cracking terrible jokes if that failed.

"I went to Inquisitor Adaar," she explained without waiting for him to elaborate. "She created a Fade rift for me to pass through. I don't think she actually believed you would still be alive, but I knew."

The words stirred something in Alistair's mind. _Incredible that we came through the rift and survived!_ A brief flash of a bald elf with intensely green eyes, and then it was gone.

"Why would she risk your life like that?" He asked.

She hesitated. "I...suppose she knew I would try to get to you one way or another. It seemed the safest option."

_Someone is going to have to stay behind to keep its attention. It's our only option._

"Alistair..." He looked up and saw her eyes shining with emotion. "Just come with me." She extended her hand.

Alistair stared at her. A fog had settled over his mind, making it impossible to make any kind of decision. He stood frozen, hands clenched at his sides.

"Come on, Alistair. We can go home. Isn't that what you want?" She held her hand out further, blue eyes imploring him to take it and Alistair started to reach for her, moving as slowly as if he were buried in sand.

 _This isn't right_. The thought crossed his mind out of nowhere and Alistair paused, withdrawing his hand.

"What are you waiting for?" She demanded, impatience coloring her tone. Alistair took a step back, gripping the hilt of his sword, and her eyes flashed.

"You're not her."

The demon's lips curved into a cruel smile, a look he'd never seen on Mahariel's face. "I can be," it purred. "Is that such a bad thing? You're never leaving here anyway, why not find some happiness?"

Alistair drew his sword. "I am a Grey Warden! I will not be thrall to a demon!"

 _The binding ritual made the Wardens thrall to Corypheus_. Another memory struck Alistair and he hesitated in his confusion.

It was a dangerous mistake. Before he could blink, he was flat on his back, sword skittering across the ground out of reach. The demon leapt at him, no longer bothering with the disguise. It's skin and hair were purple, gold jewelry and trinkets dangling from its wrists and ears. A desire demon, of course. Alistair remembered from his Templar training; this demon was more powerful and infinitely more clever than the rage and terror demons he'd dispatched previously.

"Oh, Alistair," it sighed, pinning his wrists above his head in one hand, with seemingly no effort. "If you had just taken me up on my offer...it would've been so much more pleasurable for you."

Alistair jerked against its grip, but he was held fast. "Spending the rest of eternity under the control of a creature parading about as the person I love, committing unspeakable acts of evil? Thanks, but no thanks."

The demon snarled and raised its free hand, a violet ball of flame forming around its fist. "Cute and pithy. If you weren't so self-righteous, we could've had a lot of fun together."

"Alistair!" A voice echoed across the Fade and the demon's head swiveled to see where the sound had come from. Alistair took advantage of its distraction, wrenching his leg up and slamming his knee into the small of its back.

The desire demon fell forward over him and Alistair scrambled out from under it, frantically scanning the ground for his sword. Before he could get to it, a fireball exploded just inches from his hand, scorching the earth.

"You pathetic human!" It hissed. "I offered you everything and this is how you repay me!" Another fireball was forming around its hand, and Alistair was still on his knees, sword laying out of reach.

Suddenly, a cone of ice flew through the air, striking the demon's upraised hand and freezing its arm all the way down to the elbow. The demon shrieked in pain, twisting to see the caster.

"Morrigan?" Alistair stared at the mage. The Fade had, at times, been strange, but this was downright surreal.

"Oh, do get up off the ground," she snapped irritably. "There is still a demon to be dispatched. Or had you already forgotten?"

Sure enough, the demon was struggling to free itself from the ice, which had started to spread down its arm and across its chest. Before Alistair could do anything about it, another figure stepped out of the gloom.

He could tell instantly that it was truly her. She held daggers in both her hands and her expression was fearsome to behold.

Mahariel didn't even look at him, striding forward until she was toe-to-toe with the desire demon. The creature made a piteous noise, straining away from her, though it was, by that point, frozen to the spot.

" _Ma halam_ ," the Warden said evenly. She stabbed it through the chest, shattering the ice and plunging her blade straight into its heart.

Only when the dead demon slumped to the ground did she turn to Alistair. All the anger went out of her expression and she cast the daggers aside and ran to him. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she grabbed his face, eyes roving over him, searching for injuries.

"Are you alright, _ma vhenan_?"

"I am now."

She drew back and delivered a stinging slap to his cheek. "You complete ass!"

Alistair gaped at her. "What was that for?!" He ignored what sounded suspiciously like Morrigan's laughter in the background.

Mahariel clearly wasn't listening, hauling him to his feet as she ranted, slipping from elvish to Common and back again. She stormed back in the direction they had come, Morrigan serene at her side. Alistair had no choice but to trail along like an errant mabari pup, confused and still not 100% certain he wasn't dreaming.

" _Ar tu na'din!_ Of all the stupid, impulsive, selfless things... I thought you were dead! They all said you died and there wasn't a body… Grand Enchanter vanished, The Champion sick with guilt, no one to lead the Wardens..." Here she paused to pick up her discarded weapons, but as soon as they were sheathed, she started up again. "Then the Inquisitor has Leliana send me a letter like some--some war widow, I cannot believe--"

"As entertaining as this is," Morrigan cut in, "You should probably be made aware the fool likely doesn't even remember what circumstances brought him here."

Mahariel stopped short, her expression horrified. "He's lost his memory?"

"I haven't--" Alistair started to protest, but Morrigan talked over him.

“Not entirely. However, I doubt he recalls precisely how he came to be here. You must remember, my friend, your dear Alistair has been trapped here for some time. The Fade plays tricks on the mind and time is irrelevant in this place.”

“Does that mean he’s just lost all of that memory?”

“Doubtful. It will most likely return when we cross back into the moral realm. Save your ire.”

Mahariel shot him a thunderous look. “Right. Let’s keep moving.”

Alistair trailed her, wanting to say something, but unsure of what might be appropriate. He imagined they must make quite a sight: The Hero of Ferelden and a witch of the Wilds dragging a seasoned Grey Warden out from the Fade like a mother drags a disobedient child by the ear. It was ridiculous.

He should have expected it. No one was more stubborn than his Warden.

After what seemed like ages, the terrain started to change. They trudged up a hill and on the very top, Mahariel and Morrigan stopped in front of a very old, very tarnished mirror.

“What is that?” Alistair said, unable to take their silence any longer.

“An eluvian,” Mahariel answered. Her already fair face had paled further. “A portal between worlds.”

Alistair frowned. “Like the one you found with your clansman?” He remembered the story, though it had been years since she’d told it to him. Her friend had been killed by the artifact, and she tainted, destined to be conscripted by Duncan. She was terrified of the things.

“This mirror is not tainted like the first she encountered,” Morrigan offered, as if reading Alistair’s thoughts.

“Morrigan has expertise in this area,” explained Mahariel, “I would never have been able to reach you without her assistance.”

“Do not dwell on it overmuch.” Morrigan said immediately, “Between the Hero of Fereldan and the leader of the Inquisition, I could hardly refuse.”  

Alistair felt a grin forming on his face. “Aw, you do have a heart.”

Morrigan scowled. “I most certainly do not.”

“At any rate,” the Warden said, loudly, before Alistair could respond, “We should probably be leaving the Beyond now, don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Morrigan answered. She raised her hand to the glass and Alistair watched in amazement as it rippled under her palm. “Go on.”

Mahariel was staring at the mirror with undisguised apprehension, so Alistair reached out and twined his fingers with hers. “Shall we?”

She smiled at him and they stepped through the mirror. Alistair had the brief sensation of walking under a waterfall and then they were on the other side.

Instantly, his memories flooded back and he crashed to his knees, overwhelmed. He heard a cut-off cry from his side and then heard a second voice speaking in a reassuring tone. After a few moments, the pressure in his head faded and he looked up.

Mahariel and Morrigan were watching him, the first with worry lining her face, the second’s expression as unreadable as always.

“Do you remember?” Morrigan asked.

Alistair nodded. “One of us...had to stay. A diversion. The Wardens made a mistake and I wanted to redeem it.”

“I cannot believe you,” Mahariel muttered. “Stupid self-sacrificing son of a…”

Morrigan snorted. “‘Are you truly claiming that you have never done the same thing? ‘Tis an interesting suggestion.”

“Are you defending me?” Alistair said, incredulous. He pulled himself to his feet, swaying only slightly as he caught his balance. “This cannot be real.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Mahariel asked, glancing to Morrigan.

“I do not believe his mind is any more addled than usual,” answered she. “I must take my leave. I need to attend to my...to Kieran.” She met Alistair’s eyes for a beat, dipping her head before turning and sweeping away without another word. The door clicked shut behind her and Mahariel turned to look at Alistair once more.

“Never do something like that again,” she whispered, taking a step towards him. “When I got Leliana’s letter...I thought I’d lost you.”

It shook him to see her in this state. She was usually so stoic. “I’m sorry.”

She studied his expression. “But you would make the same choice again.”

“I...yes.”

She laughed. “Then I suppose I would just have to come to your rescue again.” She pushed up onto tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I would storm the Eternal City for you if I had to.”

He kissed her then, because there was nothing else that he wanted to do quite so much. She tightened her grip on him and kissed back, opening her mouth to him. When they finally parted, the light was back in her eyes and Alistair felt something in his chest loosen.

“You’ll always be there to rescue me, then? Even if I was being attacked by soft cuddly nugs?”

“Especially then,” she agreed. She rested her head against his chest and Alistair wrapped his arms around her, barely catching the last word she whispered.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ma halam - "You are finished."
> 
> Me vhenan - "My heart" (term of endearment)
> 
> Ar tu na'din! - "I will kill you!" (here meaning "I _could_ kill you.")


End file.
